Dear Jane

You and I never met, never got to know each other, never talked about books and writing, never shared confidences over a glass of wine, but we have shared the same husband. I know from him and your best friend that you were shy and quiet, that you took a long time to get to know someone well, but I like to think we might have been friends.

It’s obvious, but without you dying I would never have met Tim. He loved you, (still loves you) and would never have gone looking for someone new if you had lived. All that is true, but the first thing I want to thank you for is what you made him promise: that after you’d gone he wouldn’t stay on his own; he would go out and meet someone else. I can’t imagine anything braver.

You and our husband were together for fourteen years. When you were diagnosed with breast cancer the two of you decided to get married. It was a small wedding; I’ve seen the pictures – you in a simple dress and a headscarf, our husband looking uncomfortable in a suit. For two years you fought disease, facing a mastectomy, a gruelling drug regime and many hospital treatments, but when you knew your illness was terminal, you found the strength to prepare our husband for your death. When he didn’t want to face the fact that very soon you would be gone, you insisted the two of you talk about it, and again and again you told him that he must carry on without you; that he must go out and face the world. One of the bravest things you did was to contact the WAY Foundation (an organisation for those who lose a spouse at an early age). You got their leaflets and left them for our husband so that he would have support after you died. And when he was ready, he did as you suggested and through the friendships he made there he was able to start looking outwards again. Would I have had that kind of courage? I’m not sure, especially knowing the man I would be leaving behind.

We chose our husband well – he is the most generous, kind-hearted and funny man I’ve ever met. You chose your best friend well too, and you would be pleased to hear that she looked after our husband when you died, going with him to register your death, helping to organise your funeral, crying and laughing together at the absurdity that you, at only 36, were gone. And a year and a half ago your best friend was ‘best man’ at our wedding, and she has become my close friend.

You wrote a diary, and so that I could understand a little more about the months before your death, our husband gave it to me to read. Historical diaries are published and read all the time, but I’m still uneasy about the ethics of reading yours. Although I can’t say that now I know what it was like for you, your diary helped me understand more clearly what the two of you were going through. You had stopped working by then, and it took all of your effort just to walk into town each day for a coffee. When you knew life was going to be taken away you noticed everything around you – the sky, the flowers, the couples, the conversations, the children.

And this is the second thing I want to thank you for – for reminding me to live each day to the full, to stop complaining about the petty things, to look at the sky, and the couples and the children and our husband, and to be grateful for what I have.

What an amazing post. Thank you for sharing. I have today received an email from the woman who married my first husband after our divorce, and who loved and nursed him through prostate cancer. We cried together ten years ago when he was dying, and Joan and I are still friends. Life is strange and sad and beautiful.

Reblogged this on egotastikearthmom's Blog and commented:
This made me cry. I wish this wonderful new writer all the very best with her debut novel Our Endless Numbered Days by Tin House in mid March. I’m excited to read it.

When you get round to reading this, will you give me you permission to reblog this piece? There is much more to this than just good writing and I’d be honored to share what you have shown us. Take your time. You know where to find me.

Reblogged this on ironwoodwind and commented:
Life is beautiful and amazing…and so is this post that Claire Fuller wrote. I asked her permission to re-blog it and she graciously assented. (Thank you, Claire.)

Wow, Claire, this is beautiful, both in the writing and in the truth behind it. Jane was clearly an incredibly brave and loving woman; in different ways you are too, for writing this and for sharing it.

Claire, this is without a doubt, the best thing of yours I’ve read and that’s saying something. Thanks for introducing us to a wonderful woman of courage and the man you both love/d. I know you two would have been friends.

Dear Claire,
This is the most moving, painfully beautiful, complex thing I’ve read in a long time. What you have to say is so loving and so gentle, so full of pathos. What you haven’t said is even more moving and complex — I’m not even sure what it is, but I sense it’s there. One learns to live with dichotomies and one learns to unify life, so that it’s not an either-or, but rather a both-and.
So beautiful! Thank you for sharing this!

I'm a writer and an artist. I have written four novels: Our Endless Numbered Days, Swimming Lessons, Bitter Orange, and Unsettled Ground (to be published in 2021). Click 'Books' in the top menu to find out more.